


Hallowed

by SkyBlueFox



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyBlueFox/pseuds/SkyBlueFox
Summary: After the end of a second series of grand adventures, a hero and a leader take a moment to rest. A short, mildly-self-indulgent, Elder Scrolls Online-themed oneshot.





	

_Just need to breathe and focus._

Bright, golden sunbeams fell down onto Dune, shining through windows, gleaming against golden arches, slipping between the branches of trees and warming the cobblestone far below. Puffs of dust rolled across the city streets when the last gasps of a cool night wind blew in from on high, ruffling the flaps of the empty merchant tents set up here and there, and the signs hanging from both the Fighters and Mages Guilds squeaked as they swung back and forth. The grass, sprouting in clumps from the reddish-brown soil, greedily basked in the early morning light, a pleasant tranquility reigning over the sleeping city. Even the few guards were having trouble keeping themselves from nodding off.

A series of light footsteps soon interrupted the silence, and a single Khajiit walked out into the middle of the guild district, clad in corseted shirt and aproned kilt, her boots softly scraping on the ground, and one of her hands tightly wrapped around a katana. Slowing to a stop some paces away from the well, the beastwoman turned around and peered skyward, letting her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. The waning breeze sent a few locks of her brown hair down into her face, and she paused, running fingers across her stripes on her fur to brush the loose bangs back into place. Stepping back, brandishing her weapon, she took a stance.

_Just need to breathe and focus._

The tan-furred cat raised her arms above her head, taking a deep gulp of the dry savanna air. She held still for a moment. Then, after a twitch of her tail, she slid forward and struck at the open air, bringing her sword down in a fast, solid chop, her left footpaw quickly following after her right. Easing back into position, she raised her arms, then chopped again, and again, and again, streaks of light faintly glinting off of the rubedite blade.

The Khajiit's ears flicked as a couple birds fluttered above her head – chirping merrily as they perched and nested in a nearby tree – and she inhaled as she returned to her forward stance. Holding the katana high, she then struck again, this time lunging forward and swinging the back upwards in a strong arc. The corners of her muzzle twitched when she heard the air whistling past the Akaviri blade, and she straightened herself up, loosely arching her wrists and curling her fingers close to the hilt.

_Just need to breathe and focus._

It was something that Merric told her, back when she had first joined the Fighters Guild.

Making another chop, then a slash, the female cat whirled around, using the weight of the pommel to help keep her balanced as she swung the sword in a spinning strike, her long brown hair swishing over her neck. A spark of magic rippled through her fingers, and she narrowed her gaze as the sensation of Stend- S'rendarr's light surrounded her, motes of gold drifting off of her blade even after she had evened out.

“You really are skilled, you know,” A smooth, soft, feminine voice spoke up, and the beastwoman leaped into the air in surprise, nearly dropping her katana as she swiveled on her heels. Her heartbeat slowed just as suddenly as it spiked, and she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the gray-robed, Mane-wearing cat standing near the well, leaning slightly on her staff for support. “The guild should be proud to have someone like you working with them, Hallowed.”

“Shazah- I mean, Mane Shazah...” Sahraaji replied, hastily correcting herself as she slipped her weapon behind her belt, and she walked over to the other Khajiit, dropping to one knee and bowing down, her long hair slipping down her neck and tucking her fur. “I- I mean, this one didn't realize that you were watching.”

Shazah smiled warmly, bending over and lightly patting her friend's shoulder, gesturing at her to rise; the fighter did just that, sweeping dust off of her kilt along the way. “Please, Shazah would prefer if you called her by name alone, without her title. It's just us out here, after all. It seems we both woke up bright and early this morning.”

“Yes... I was just limbering up and preparing for the day,” Sahraaji replied, nodding at the mage before walking over to the edge of the well and sitting down. Shazah's smile grew wider at that, and she slowly sidled over and hopped up next to her friend, resting her staff lightly on her lap. “It's been quite a while since I last did any of those exercises. Helping out here in Dune has kept this one quite busy.”

“We're all glad for your aid, Sahraaji. Every single one of us,” The gray-robed Khajiit said gently, a note of firmness playing in her otherwise smooth voice, and she reached over to her friend, resting a palm on top of her own. Sahraaji blinked, then bowed her head slightly, twisting her wrist a little and curling her fingers around the mage's offered hand. “You've made so many things possible over the past few days.”

“Please, Shazah... you flatter this one.” The fighter cat shook her head, turning and looking towards the empty market tents a short distance away, a pang of embarrassment flitting through her nerves. “Sahraaji has mostly helped to clean up the last of the Daedra. Without you to organize everyone and give them the motivation to continue, things would be much messier around here, no?”

“Well, that may be true, yes...” Shazah started, shyly looking away in the opposite direction. Her tail, on the other hand, waved and nudged against her friend's, curling ever-so-slightly around. “But without you there to help Shazah, Hallowed, she would never have become the Mane, no?”

Humming at the use of her title, Sahraaji scooted back a little onto the stone and wood, a hand still curled tightly around the other Khajiit's. Shazah glanced back at the cat, an uneasy mix of nervousness and puzzlement emblazoned on her face, and she shifted an inch or two closer to the cat, a tremble of tension running down her spine.

“You're leaving today, aren't you?”

Sahraaji froze where she sat, craning her neck to stare at the slowly-brightening sky, and she inhaled deeply, eventually letting out a low, heavy sigh as she watched a small fleet of clouds roll in on the higher winds. Her ears drooped somewhat as she racked her brain for a reply, but when she felt Shazah tighten her grip on her hand, she turned to look at the mage; she wore a sad, understanding smile on her face. Another breeze, this one much warmer, blew through the city, ruffling their fur somewhat, making the well's basket drift slightly from side to side.

_Just need to breathe and focus._

The fighter inhaled, exhaled, and then finally nodded. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mmm... you're restless, just like how...” Shazah drifted off, and she let go of Sahraaji's hand, resting her arms in her lap and fiddling with her staff, a melancholy falling over her. The other cat tilted her head slightly, curling her fist the tiniest bit, the sensation of the beastwoman's fingers still lingering. “Like how Khali was. And even though you've helped us, you've still been here the past few days. Shazah knew you were going to leave Dune sooner or later.”

“I see... Sahraaji is-” The Khajiit looked down at her aproned kilt, lightly kicking the heels of her boots against the stones of the well, dark, vivid dreams replaying over and over in her mind; sights and sounds and smells, all familiar, yet all wrong. She closed her eyes, picturing the Green Lady cradling the Silvenar's body, the figure of Urcelmo, numerous wounds covering his body... and then a ghostly Khajiiti figure, and a mocking voice... “Sahraaji is sorry. About Khali, and Tharn...”

An uncomfortable, awkward silence ensued. Sahraaji swallowed – even though her throat remained dry – and after a couple seconds, she summed up her courage and turned her head to look at the Khajiit sitting beside her. Shazah's head was bowed, and her face scrunched, the Mane's braids drooping down, grazing her epaulets. The fighter couldn't tell if her friend's expression was out of sorrow or prayer, and as her heart skipped a beat, she hastily averted her gaze, peering at the windows and watching as tired silhouettes began to walk around inside the nearby houses.

“Khali was always proud of you, you know,” Shazah suddenly said, and Sahraaji whipped her head back down to stare at the mage, the words striking a chord deep within her. The gray-robed Khajiit opened her eyes and looked back at the fighter, tears clearly shimmering in the morning glow. “After we met at Fort Grimwatch, she often talked about the battles you two got into when fighting the Dro-m'athra, and while we were on our way to Moonmont, we told each other about how concerned you got for us during our trials. You cared so deeply, for our people, for Khali... and for Shazah.”

“Sahraaji has lost people close to her, too.” The fighter reached out and placed a hand on the mage's shoulder, scooting closer and looking her right in the eye. “I just... I'm glad you're still here.”

“S-Shazah is glad you share her feelings,” Shazah stuttered slightly at the intensity of her friend's stare, and she bowed her head, humming as her mind slowly drifted onto the sight of her sister, corrupted and dark, in the Two Moons Path. She tensed up, grasping her staff tight, claws lightly grazing against the gray fabric of her robe. “Between Dune's reconstruction and my duties as Mane, this one has only been able to mourn privately...”

“Khali is on Khenarthi's path, now, yes?” The gray-robed Khajiit perked up, glancing over at Sahraaji when she spoke. Sahraaji's expression turned sheepish, and she leaned her katana against the side of the well before gesturing lamely towards the open sky. “My mother used to say that when someone died, back when I was a child. Sahraaji thought you would appreciate it.”

“I...” The Mane trailed off, taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself. “Yes. Thank you, Hallowed.”

She leaned over and sadly rested her head on the fighter's arm – her headdress' braids slid sideways and gathered together, the tips of the gathered fur tickling her shoulder – and she sighed, letting her eyes flutter shut, doing her best to keep herself from starting to cry. Sahraaji just sat there, palms clasped on her aproned kilt, and she stole a furtive glance around the district, the well's awning protecting them from the sunlight pouring in from above the buildings. Slowly, but surely, she embraced the other cat, a wave of gentle affection coursing through her, and they sat in silence for a while longer, listening as Dune began to wake up.

“Where will you go from here, Hallowed?” After what felt like minutes, Shazah finally found her voice, briefly pushing thoughts of her sister aside as she turned to glance at the fighter beside her. “What are your plans?”

The striped Khajiit glanced back at her friend, a warm smile slowly gracing her features as she broke the hug, sitting up a little straighter and patting around her apron's pockets, finally pulling a map out from one of them. The mage peered over Sahraaji's shoulder in the meantime, following her finger as she poked a dot labeled 'Dune' and moved downward. “Sahraaji is heading south, to S'ren-ja. Mother said that it's where I was born... where we lived before the flu came, I mean.”

“South to S'ren-ja...” Shazah parroted, thinking back to days gone past, turning her gaze upwards to look at the higher boughs of the trees, branches swaying in the wind, leaves occasionally drifting down onto the cobblestones below. The Mane's nose twitched slightly as a faintly pleasant scent blew in on the breeze, and she relaxed a little, lightly kicking her footpaws at the grass. “This one passed through when she was coming to Dune from Moonmont.”

“Mmm...” Sahraaji hummed to herself. “It's strange to think about. This one was so young when we left that she doesn't remember anything about it from when she was a child.”

“It was quiet there, but nice enough, though Shazah did not stay long,” Shazah murmured. “She thinks you will like it there.”

Another silence fell over the two, this one much more comfortable, and easy; a few birds began to chirp, and the dawn chorus sang sweetly as they fluttered from tree to tree.

A creak of wood caught Shazah's attention, and she glanced behind her at the Mages Guild, a pair of arms retreating in from an opened window. The Mane sighed, sliding off the edge of the well and getting to her footpaws, tapping the end of her staff against the ground a couple times to get her companion's attention. “Well... this one should probably be getting back to her duties. You have things to be doing as well, yes?”

Sahraaji peered at the gray-robed Khajiit, then at the stairs leading out of the guild district, watching as a pair of guards changed places. Reluctantly, the warrior cat nodded in agreement, the back of her kilt scuffing against the stone bricks as she hopped to the ground as well. “Yes... this one travels light, but she still needs to pack.”

Shazah took a couple steps away, feeling the wind whistle through her braided headdress, her robe ruffling in the breeze. “Sahraaji... we will never forget you or how you helped us here. Please... don't forget about us either, no matter how far you travel. Not the Paths, not Khali, not-”

“Of course.” The fighter interrupted. “I promise.”

The mage paused, then smiled brightly, her cheeks dimpling as she turned around and strode away. Sahraaji twisted around to watch her leave, the guards bowing respectfully as she trotted up the stairs and turned out of sight. Her ears twitched as she heard a door open and shut, a handful of townsfolk beginning to pop up here and there around the district. Grabbing her katana, the long-haired cat reached into her apron's pocket, drew her hand back out, and uncurled her fingers, the sparkle in her eyes dulling ever-so-slightly as she stared.

In her palm sat two rings – one emblazoned with the symbol of the Aldmeri queen, and the other set with the familiar signet of the High King.

A pained expression wormed its way onto the Khajiit's face, and she clasped both rings to her chest, bowing her head in a silent prayer, visibly shuddering as a veritable flood of memories played through her mind. Instinctively, she inhaled deeply through her nose.

_Just need to breathe and focus._

A moment later, she exhaled. Returning the treasures to her pocket, Sahraaji shook her head and marched towards the Fighters Guild.


End file.
